


The Eccentric Education of the Knight Bus

by potionspartner



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Humor, The Knight Bus (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionspartner/pseuds/potionspartner
Summary: WANTED FOR AN EXCITING ADVENTUREConductor on the Knight BusNo NEWTS requiredA few OWLS recommendedReasonable pay and benefitsFlexible hoursMust be open-minded and friendly with every person, animal and object that embarks on the bus.See the Department of Magical Transportation for an application.<\center>
Kudos: 7





	1. Wake up, Stan! Get a job!

My mother shoved the Daily Prophet under my nose. Bleary eyed, I tried to focus on the paper that was an inch from my face. Mum’s high pitched nag began. I heaved a sigh, I didn’t need to listen. It was the same lecture every morning. “Wake-up, Stan and get a job.”

I tried to give her my most winning smile The one she used to tell people could charm the pants off a snake. “Good morning, Mum!” I tried for cheery but with little success.

She scowled at me, “Your breath stinks,” she announced. “Now get up, get dressed and get a job.” she marched out the door and finished with the finale-a slammed door that reverberated through the walls, making Krum on my Quidditch poster send her a rather rude gesture. 

Sighing, I glanced at the newspaper. Maybe, my mother was right. She had only been nagging me for eighteen months. I was now nineteen and a graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Granted I did so by the eyelash of a unicorn, but HEY I did do it. I thought a moment and thought about some of my fellow classmates and all those jobs they kept bragging about. Perhaps, I SHOULD be more responsible. Recognizing my lazy days of teenage apathy (and sleeping in) were coming to an abrupt end. I opened the Daily Prophet and began skimming the classified section. Lots of things caught my eye, but they all talked about needing newts and other forms of academic snobbery. The my eye landed on a different sort of ad.

WANTED FOR AN EXCITING ADVENTURE

  
Conductor on the Knight Bus

No NEWTS required  
A few OWLS recommended

Reasonable pay and benefits  
Flexible hours

Must be open-minded and friendly with every person, animal and object that embarks on the bus.

See the Department of Magical Transportation for an application. 

“I could do this”, I reasoned.”After all I’ve always been a friendly guy. It’s in my Hufflepuff nature and I passed a few of my OWLS. . . the second time around.” Sleepily I scratched myself and stretched trying to remember exactly which OWLS I passed seventh year. They would probably ask that on the application.

I stumbled out of bed and stared at the mirror imagining myself in a conductor’s hat. “What do you think?” I asked the mirror. “Stan Shunpike, conductor of the Knight Bus at your service.” I bowed low and swept off my imaginary cap. My mirror snorted. “Whatever, Stan. Go brush your teeth. Your breath stinks.”

After a fortifying lunch of fish, chips, and a container of cherry swash ice cream (I needed extra energy to be on my best), I flooed to the ministry to fill out an application. While they did want my OWLS listed, they weren’t too picky about the scores. As long as I could use a wand for basic magic, they were fine.

It turned out the job required a lot more than that. They should have demanded NEWTs.


	2. A Day when a NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures would be helpful.

“Hello, welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike. How may I help you this evening?” I put on my best smile and puffed my chest forward a bit so the shiny buttons on my new uniform shimmered in the moonlight.

The wizard, however, did not look impressed. He smirked a bit and dropped his coin in my outstretched hand. “Dude, you know your hubcaps are missing?”

“Excuse me?” I asked trying to understand the shift in conversation. “My hubcaps?”

“Yeah.” He waved vaguely at the two visible tires. “They were purple and silver, really cool to look at when they were spinning-you know, like psychedelic.”

I stared at the man. He looked rather psychedelic himself with rainbowed robes and hair so long it would rival the Headmaster of Hogwarts. I stared into his eyes, fairly certain he had partaken in an illegal potion or two, not that I would know of such things.

“Ummmmm, I didn’t even know we had hubcaps,” I admitted. “It’s only my third day on the job.”

The man nodded sagely. His lion’s mane bouncing up and down with his head. Then he stared at me pointedly and spoke like I was a first year. “I’ve been on this bus more times then you’ve probably even used that so called brain of yours. I’m telling you, the bus had hubcaps, nice shiny new ones and they are missing.”

I nodded dumbly to the wizard and gritted my teeth.”Remember,” I told myself, “ to always be polite, no matter how much of a wanker the rider is”. He trudged up the steps as I settled back in my seat behind, our driver, Ernie. “Hey, Ernie, The bus’s hubcaps are missing.” I made conversation in my friendly sort of way.

“Really?” he replied as he pulled the vehicle into traffic nearly sideswiping a lady with a pram. “That a bad sign.”

“Missing hubcaps are a bad sign?” I asked. “I figured. . . I don’t know. They fell off or maybe were stolen as a prank.”

Enrie shook his head. “Just keep an eye out, will ya? Let’s hope it’s the only thing a miss.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back all while trying to understand how missing hubcaps were an omen for a divination disaster. 

A bit later, I marched upstairs to tell Mrs. Meriwether that we were approaching Cornwall. I paused on the top step and glanced around. Something was off. It was nearing midnight, so all the beds were in semi-neat rows, five of them occupied with snores and snuffles. I studied the place, bed by bed, trying to determine what bothered me.

“All of the bedknobs are missing!” I gasped as I reached out to grasp the top of a brass bedpost, even though it wasn’t there.

Rainbow Radical glanced up from The Quibbler. “Isn’t that funny?” he commented snidely and then went back to his magazine.

I pushed all propriety aside and clenched my wand. “What did you do with them?” I demanded, but the wizard just held his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me, dude. They were missing when I got here.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it,” I seethed. He just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “not my problem.”

The bus lurched to a stop sending me reaching for the handrails and sending one of the snoozers off of his bed. “Hey, Stan!” Ernie yelled. “We’re at Cornwall. I’m taking a five!” His announcement was followed by the bang of the door and silence. As sophisticated as the Knight Bus was, one would thing the ministry would have outfitted it with a toilet, but no. I knew Ernie. His five minutes break would probably be closer to fifteen.

Slowly, I inched over to Mrs Meriwether’s prone form. I had just reached out to gently shake her awake when something caught my eye. It was a bit bigger than a quaffle and covered with shiny black hair. It gave me one quick look over before turning its long, round nose away and disappearing between the beds.   
I lept over two beds (and the wizard who had fallen to the floor and was still sleeping) and pointed my wand to the spot at had last seen it. Alas, it, whatever it was, had already disappeared. “What the hell was that?” I shouted as I jerked around searching for the creature.

“That,” Rainbow Radical lectured while leafing through his magazine, “is trouble for you. Good luck!” 

“Yes, but what IS IT?” I emphasized, but he did not deign to look up. 

“Obviously, you didn’t pay attention in Professor Kettleburn’s class,” he sneered. 

I started to protest that I did indeed pay attention in Professor Kettleburn’s class and earned an OWL (I think) but suddenly a crash on the first level sent me scurrying for the spiral stairwell. I skidded at the bottom and felt a sense of dread. All of the chairs were turned at every which angle, for each chair was held up by a single metal post and those, like the bed knobs had mysteriously disappeared. There was the creature, his belly protruding out as if a good meal has just been consumed. The last of the chairs’ posts were positioned like a hotdog near his mouth. It gave me a sly smile and seemed to finish it off in one gulp. 

I dove over the cascade of chairs and reached for it. Unfortunately, it was a slippery little creature. His silky fur slid through my grasp and he was off again. 

Then I heard Ernie screeching, “Where’s my knobs and handles. Where’s my steering wheel!” I raced forward and there was the creature. It sat in a docile manner in middle of the aisle, leaning against an overturned seat. It gave a wink and cackled merrily-obviously enjoying its mischief making. Slowly I pulled out my wand and aimed it. BANG. A red stream shot out, but the creature scaled the walls like lightning before I had time to react and was now, hanging peacefully from the curtains. Instead, there came Ernie around the corner. My spell hit him right between the legs. Thankfully, it wasn’t strong enough to knock him out but it was certainly painful. He grabbed his groin and let out a stream of descriptive language directed either at myself or my wand. 

“Sorry, Ern!” I aimed at the inquisitive creature again, but now it jumped onto Ernie’s head while Ernie was still tending to his more tender parts. “Ern, don’t move.” I cautioned aiming again.

The bus driver looked up. A look of horrified alarm rocketed onto his face., “Stan, what are you doing?” 

“Petrificus Totalus!” I swear, I aimed correctly but perhaps Ernie straightened up at that moment or perhaps, the creature leaped just then. Either way, Ernie was frozen on the ground and the furry vexation was snickering while he pilfered from my coin coffer. “Stop eating those sickles,” I yelled as he tucked the tiny bronze coins away but the little vermin just cackled.

I raised my wand again when there was a screech behind me. “Nubby, you bad boy, what have you been up to.” Mrs. Meriwether had finally woken up to to disembark. She stood behind me with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed. “Young man, put that wand away. That’s not how you capture a niffler.” She reached into her purse and withdrew a thick, gold chain. She swung it back and forth hypnotizing the niffler. The animal glanced up from its petty thievery and became mesmerized by the gold pendulum. It slowly padded toward the witch on its four little claws never taken its eyes off the swinging chain. 

Mrs. Meriwether grabbed it by the back of the neck and picked him up, holding him eye level. Her face was stern but her eyes danced with light that suggested she was more amused than angry. “Have you been searching for shiny things?” The niffler looked a bit abashed. Then he let out a large burp and patted his tummy. The woman just giggled as she rubbed her nose to his.

“He ate my money!’ I shouted. “He ate every last coin, the silver steering wheel, all the bedknobs, the chair poles and the bus’s hubcaps.”

“Ridiculous,” the witch scoffed. “Nifflers don’t eat shiny things. They collect them. Don’t you, my precious,” she cooed to the larcenous rodent. “Now, Nubby. You have to give them back.” She turned him upside down and shook. A cascade of coins fell from its pouch and rolled around the bus, followed by bevy of bronze bedknobs and poles and several knobs and buttons from the bus’s dashboard. “Is that all?” she asked the niffler sternly. The creature nodded in solemn affirmation but she knew her pet to well. She turned him over and tickled him mercilessly until he acquiesced. Slowly he pulled out a gleaming round circle, the bus’s steering wheel that was twice as big as he. 

“What about the hubcaps?” I exclaimed. Mrs. Meriwether checked the niffler’s pouch and shrugged. 

“Sorry, he doesn’t have them. Perhaps you have another niffler on your bus.” She stepped off the purple triple decker as my jaw dropped in horror. Not another one, I thought. Sighing, I turned to Ernie who was still a statue on the floor. It had been a long night and it still wasn’t over. I had remembered the spell, Petrificus Totalus, but now could not remember the counter charm. Perhaps I should have paid more attention in Professor Flitwick’s class, too.


	3. A Day when a NEWT in Muggle Studied would be helpful

“Hello, welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike. How may I help you this evening?” I opened the door and looked out. There was no one there. “That’s strange,” I murmured until I glanced down. There was a little girl, no more than 5 of 6 staring up at me, her mouth formed into a perfect O and her brown eyes as wide as saucers. She clutched a pink unicorn with a rainbow colored horn-definitely a muggle stuffed animal.

“Did you say for witches and wizards?” the girl asked. Her eyes had yet to blink as she studied the purple vehicle. 

“Are you sure you are a witch?” I asked her bending down so we were eye level. “You look more like a muggle.”

“Of course I am a witch, but what’s a muggle?” she asked as she bent down and began to examine under the bus, studying it in the wise ways of a 5 year old. 

“If you have to ask, then you are one,” I replied pompously. This was not good. If she was a muggle and could see the bus, I didn’t even want to think about the consequences. “Hey, get out of there,” I proclaimed for she had her head almost completely under the bus at this point. 

Her little blonde head popped back up. “Did you know that you are missing your hubcaps?” she asked.

My mouth gaped open. Why is everyone obsessed with the bus’s hubcaps? “What type of petrol does this thing run on?” the girl interrupted my thoughts.

“Uh, it doesn’t.” I replied.

“Really?” The girls eyes returned to saucer size. “Does it run on natural gas?”

“What’s that?” The girl had already exhausted my understanding of muggle fuels with petrol.

Her face immediately turned to a frown at my obvious transgression. She put one hand on her hip and shook her finger at me. For a moment, she looked like a meter tall version of my mother. “You aren’t very environmentally friendly, are you? Mr. Charles Wainwright III and I think caring for the environment is very important. Don’t we Mr. Wainwright? She turned the atrocious pink unicorn toward her and nuzzled his horn.”

I don’t know how this conversation had turned or, indeed, where it was even going but I need to turn it to words I understood. “It runs on magic,” I defended myself.

“Magic!” the girl whispered. Her eyes began to sparkle like fireworks, “It’s real?”

I rolled my eyes, “How can you think your a witch and not know magic?” I asked again trying to insert some authority into my voice.

This point it was the little girl’s turn to roll her eyes. “Duh,” she said. “Because I have the outfil to prove it including the pointy hat and a broom.” A big smile lit up her face as she described her outfit. Well it certainly sounded like a witch’s outfit and she COULD see the bus.

“Is your mommy a witch?” I asked, the little girl shook her head solemnly. “Half-blood, perhaps raised as a muggle,” I thought, not that I have any prejudices. “So, your dad is a wizard,” I continued. Again the girl shook her head, but this time she giggled, “Of course not silly, my parents don’t have the costumes because they don’t dress up for Halloween.”

“Halloween?” Now it was my turn to scratch my head.

“Helena! Helena! Where are you!” A frantic mother’s voice could be heard down the sidewalk. 

“I’m here, mummy,” the little girl shouted. “I’m over by the big purple bus.” Suddenly there was a woman wrapping her arms around the little girl, chastising her about wandering away while crying at the same time. “But mummy,” Helena explained, “I just wanted to look at the purple bus. I’ve never seen a three story bus before. Isn’t it neat.” 

The mother glanced up at the street and then down at your daughter, confusion on her face. “It’s just a normal red double decker, dear” Then she turned to Stan, “I’m terribly sorry, sir. My daughter has a wild imagination. We’re not even taking a bus today.”

Thank goodness for anti-muggle charms, I thought. I told the woman it was no problem, really and her daughter seemed like a great kid, but the child was not to be deterred. She looked between the bus and her mother, back and forth several time before she reached up to yank on the sleeve of my uniform. Up on her tippy toes, she cupped her hand over my ear, “She can’t see the real bus, can she?” the girl asked her eyes wide and luminous again.

I smiled and nodded. “It’s just a secret between you and me,” I whispered back. The little girl nodded solemnly before stepping back to the curb. I waved good-bye and shut the door telling Ernie to take off.  
Then I entered the front of the bus to find Ernie who was whacking at a couple of the knobs a bit harder than usual. “Is there something wrong?” I asked him.

Ernie turned his attention away from the dashboard for a moment, his owl-like eyes accentuated by even bigger glasses. “Some of these buttons and knobs are gettin’ stuck,” he explained. “Bus is due for a check-up with Magical Maintenance next week, I’ll mention it to them.” He gave the dashboard one more good whack before he seemed satisfied. “What was that about? Did someone board?”

So, I explained the entire story about the girl seeing the bus but her mother not. “Girl is probably a muggleborn,” Ernie declared, “She’ll get her letter in a couple of years.” Then he turned his attention back to the road and weaved between several bicyclists before hitting a long stretch of pavement.

“Yeah, maybe,” muttered I but wasn’t completely convinced that was the entire story. Just before they took off again, I had looked back at the mother and daughter. Helena was frantically waving good-bye but her mother. . . Her mother had that same surprised look on her face that her daughter had just minutes before with wide saucer eyes and her mouth hanging open. It was almost like, just before take-off, the mother had seen a purple triple decker bus, too. 

_____________________________________

The next day, I relieved Dan, the other conductor, who had done the night shift. “How’s it going?” I asked. 

Dan’s eyes shifted back and forth. He kept spinning around like he was sure someone was behind him. “I think the bus is being followed,” Dan said mysteriously. “I’ve had this feeling all shift that someone is watching me. Ya know what I mean?” 

Dan dropped his voice low and conspiratorial and I stood there like there was a permanent sticking charm on my feet. “Who? When?” I asked. My throat constricting on itself as fear began to build.

“Dunno,” Dan said as he bound off the bus, “but all shift. I’ve just got this feeling. . . ya know. Really creepy. As we’re driving down the road, people are watching us. You best be careful.” 

I nodded thanking him for the warning before he disappeared into the morning fog. 

Needless to say, I was a wreck by midday. I was convinced that half of the muggle cars on the roads were staring at our bus. Dan’s warnings had me jump at every small sound and there was a lot of sounds. Ernie was having trouble with the bus again and he was banging on various buttons and knobs, swearing like a sailor. Each time a loud noise came from the front, I was practically shimming up a pole. All I wanted was a calming draught and perhaps one for a headache too. “Calm down, Ern,” I put a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Remember, this is family bus, not Knockturn Alley.”

Ernie growled in response but relaxed his shoulders, “Sorry. This bus is driving me crazy. It’s not shifting right or the shrink charm doesn’t work or the “make us skinny” button seems to have problems. Just when I get one thing, some other part of this contraption is cranky. 

“Definitely, time for a check-up,” I observed.

Ern nodded, “Let’s just hope it makes it to next week.”

____________________________

The bus beeped a message--passengers at the Leaky Cauldron. When we stopped at the inn, there were two men standing there with their wands out. Dressed in business robes, they had That Ministry Look. You know the type. The older one looked like he had never seen the inside of Zonkos and wouldn’t know a joke if it slapped him in the face. “We’re Agents Powers and Austins of Magical Law Enforcement,” he announced as soon as I opened the door. “What path has this bus taken in the last three hours?”

The MLE? I gulped noisily really wishing I had that calming draught now. “Is there some kind of trouble?” I asked tentatively.

“I’m the one asking the questions,” he snapped, “Now, what route has this bus taken in the last three hours?”

“Ummmm, let’s see. We were at Hogsmeade then on to Edinburgh,” I started desperately trying to remember the route. It’s not like I paid that much attention. Ernie is the driver for Merlin's sake.

“We picked up Madam Marsh at Glasgow and then dropped her off at Carlisle,” helped Ernie as he came up behind me to see the commotion. 

“Oh that’s right,” Thanks goodness for Ernie. “Then Cokeworth, Godric’s Hollow, Ipswich, then here,” I finished off hoping I hadn’t forgotten any.

The older agent gave a short nod as the younger took furious notes. “Give me a tour of the bus particularly the magical components that keep muggles from taking interest.”

“Right this way,” Ernie said motioning them toward the front of the bus. The agent’s note scribbling followed them, so I saddled up to them, determined to hear anything worthwhile.

“The bus has got some problems,” Ernie explained to the gruff man, “I’ve been trying to keep her together because if we don’t make our route in time. . . “ He trails off and looks at me. The last thing we wanted is some paper pusher from the Department of Magical Transportation coming down on us. “She’s supposed to go in for maintenance next week.”

“Not anymore,” the agent proclaimed. “Everything on the bus seems to working okay for the moment,” he said. 

Only because Ernie took a wallop at the dashboard just before you embarked I thought. 

“But we’ve had sightings by muggles in Glasgow, Carlisle and Ipswich described as a purple blur or a runaway, purple truck being driven by a mad man,” the man continued. Ernie turned bright red and dropped his head but the ministry worker ignored him. He waved his wand and writing appeared on a sheet of parchment. “As soon as you deliver your current passengers, I want this bus in the Magical Transportation garage. It’s maintenance schedule got moved up to today.”

“Yes, sir,” I saluted the man smartly but he just stared at me and rolled his eyes before motioning the other agent off the bus. (Funny, I don’t remember leaving the door open after they boarded.) “By the way,” the younger one added. “Tell the garage that you are missing your hubcaps.”

“How many passengers are still back there?” Ern asked after we heard the pop of their apparition. 

“Five,” I answered promptly, “including those two vampires.”

Ernie shuttered, “Let’s get this over with. I have a bad feeling about this.”

I strapped myself now wishing for a double strength calming draught. Ernie’s premonitions of problems tended to be rather accurate. 

_____________________________________

Everything was running smoothly until we dropped off the second passenger. “Next stop, Stonehenge!” I announced. The bus came to a very abrupt stop. The bus came to a very abrupt stop sending the furniture flying into a heap.The tables stood up in a huff, twirled their tablecloth skirts around and marched back to their proper spots. 

It was then I noticed a lost toy among the toppled chairs-a pink unicorn with a rainbow colored horn. . . . a most absurd looking unicorn, but one I had seen before. Panicked, I scanned the first level-no sign of life. I pounded up the stairs to the second level. The two vampires were drinking something from golden goblets (I do not want to know) while discussing whatever vampires discuss. 

“How long until we reach the London Zoo?” the taller one inquired. 

“About ten minutes,” I replied rather hurriedly.. (I’ve found it’s usually better to not ask our passengers why they are going to their destination especially when they are as taciturn and blood-thirsty as sanguisuge can be.) They must have noticed my agitation for they glanced up, arching their eyebrows in inquiry. “Have you all seen a little girl?” I asked. The shorter one nodded curtly his eyes drifting upward. I mumbled a thanks and raced up the second staircase.

There she was. The little witch who-might-not-be-a-witch staring out the front window, mesmerized by the bus as it swerved between pedestrians and automobiles, clapping her hands in delight as mailboxes and trash cans jumped out of the way.

“Merlin! What are YOU doing here?” I yelled.

The little girl turned her head and studied me for a moment. “My name isn’t Merlin. It’s Helena,” she explained patiently like she was instructing a two year old. “Is your bus a king or a queen?”

Where did that strange question come from? “Urr, It’s actually a Knight. It’s called the Knight Bus.” I explained. 

“Oh,” She looked a bit disappointed. “I thought it might be a king or queen because it tells everyone else what to do.” Helena pointed out the window. It tells all the things on the road to move and they do. Your bus is rather bossy.” She paused for a moment considering if she was being a big rude, “but a Knight is cool too.”

How does this little girl get me so off topic? “Helena,” I start. “Where is your mother? Does she know you are on the bus.”

The girls looked a bit abashed and began to ramble her excuses.“My mother can’t see the bus. At least I don’t think so. She said she couldn’t, but then for a moment last time we saw you she said she did, but then she denied it-said it was her imagination. I don’t understand. It’s like that store near where I live. Mummy swears there is nothing there, but I can see people going in and out. There’s even a sign above it. The Leaky Colton. Who is Colton and why does he leak?” 

I ignored her question. “How did you get on the bus tonight?”

“Oh that was easy,” she continued. “The bus stopped in front of the Leaky Colton and two men were talking to you. They looked as sour as my grandpa when he has gas pains. Then they got on the bus with you, so I just followed you guys on.”

“Your mother is going to be panicked.” Actually I was panicked. Lost children were always bad but a lost muggle child-a child who obviously couldn’t stay where she was supposed to anyways. Merlin, help me.

“Are you sure this bus is a Knight?” the girl asked impetuously. “Knights are supposed to help.”

“We do,” I justified myself. “We pick up stranded witches and wizards.”

“Then why are the police after you?” she asked innocently as she pointed out the window to flashing blue lights behind us and stomach wrenching sirens. 

Just then the bus starting shaking and I don’t mean it’s normal rocking. I can handle that. I mean the bus was convulsing on its wheels. “YOU, stay here. Don’t move,” I commanded the pint-size problem and I raced back down two flights of stairs skidding to a stop behind Ernie’s seat.

“We ain’t gonna make it,” Ernie said. Once glance out the windscreen and I knew he was right. He tried to swerve by two parked cars, we should have been able to pass right through them. Instead I heard the crash of metal and saw the two cars spinning into the road behind us followed by more metal on metal and a lot of honking. 

“Uh-oh. We’ve got another problem.” I pointed to the wing mirror where now not one, but two sets of flashing blue lights were following us. “What’s the fastest way to the garage?” I asked. There are anti-muggle charms on the building itself. Once there we should be safe.

“The garage is on Baker Street. The fastest way is through the park.” He pointed to Regent’s Park directly ahead of us. We sailed through a red light at an intersection would I normally would think nothing of but today. . . . . Ernie pulled, prodded and pounded on various instruments in front of him. We made it through but two other cars crashed and behind them were two more yellow and blue checkered cars were screaming as they chased us. 

“Oh shite,” I thought. “Ernie, it’s the muggle police. Please tell me we are invisible.”

“I’m not telling you nothing right now,” Ernie declared as he yanked the silver steering wheel left and then right trying to avoid other cars. “Through the park or around it,” he growled.

“Through the park,” I decided. “It has to be better than going by road,” I reasoned. 

Ernie stomped his foot on the gas and pushed the button to jump over the six foot brick wall on the edge of the greenery. It didn’t work. The bus skidded as the bricks went flying but stayed straight toward the grass. I glanced behind me. Those four police cars were now six. There was no doubt we were visible and they were right on our tail. 

“Ernie, they can see us!” I screamed. 

“I just don’t want to kill them,” he yelled back. “None of the magic seems to be working. Nothing is jumping out of the way.” 

“What about the break!” I yelled back. 

He stomped hard but to no avail. “Breaking charm is completely gone.”

“Merlin, help us,” I breathed as the bus careened through some garden. We sideswiped a statue and the head rolled off some naked dude. “There’s a road.” I pointed to a circular drive that curved to our right. 

“No way, too many people. I’ll stick to the grass,” he declared which I thought was a good idea until the tree line cleared. To my horror, there were hundreds of people in front of us. They were sitting in a semi-circle looking down at a stage below. We were so close that there was no way to avoid a crash. Desperately, Ernie banged on the jump button. At the last possible moment, the bus took its last bit of magic and surged upward. The spectator’s eyes drifted from the stage below to the triple decker purple bus soaring over their heads as screams ensued. Over the stage and beyond. For a brief moment, I imagined we’d make to Baker Street on the other side but the magic ended and gravity won.

We crashed, nose first into a huge lake. Ernie and I scrambled up as the bus began to fill with water.

“Do something,” Ernie screamed. 

I admit it. I panicked. The water was already up to our knees and there was only one spell that came to mind. “Aguamenti!” I yelled. 

Okay, so that was the wrong spell to use. 

Water began to flow in twice as fast. At least Ernie had the mindfulness to stop my wand. “Finite Incantatem!” and then drag me to the stairs.

“Mr. Wainwright!’ a panicked shriek emanated from the stairs. There was Helena about to jump into the water to rescue her pink four legged friend who was now floating among the chintz chairs.

“Don’t move, Helena.” I yelled. Ernie pushed her back up the steps as I waded toward the plushy victim. By now the tables were starting to float like the chairs and I waded through a soup of furniture. Mr. Charles Wainwright III had his horn caught on a handle of a tea cup and was being pulled down by a tablecloth that had abandoned its post. Grabbing him by the horn, I swam back to the stairs. Ernie extended his arm and pulled me out of the swirling debris and up to the next level.

The bus must have hit the bottom for it finally stopped sinking, the water rising almost to the second floor. Shivering I glanced down into the stairwell as saucers and spoons floated around. I cast a drying spelling on Mr. Wainwright III and handed him back to the sobbing child. As I started to cast the same spell on myself, I heard a far from sympathetic voice. “Tut, tut. Is this our stop?” The two vampires were sitting in chintz chairs, reading books. 

I glared at them about to retort but Ernie cut in. He pointed out the window to the north. “About 1000 metres that way. This is as close as we get.”

“Then I suppose this is close enough,” the taller one allowed. “We would be glad to take the girl with us. She could enjoy the zoo and then we’d invite her for. . . . dinner.” I grabbed Helena, pulling her protectively to my side and gave them my best death glare. They just shrugged their shoulders, nodded good-bye and slipped out the window.

Slowly, I trudged up to the third level; my feet felt like lead, sat down and stared out the window. “Not good,” I thought as I surveyed the scene outside.“ Aloud, I yelled. “Ernie! Get up here!” Seconds later, the pounding of his feet and pitter-patter of lighter footsteps brought them next to me. Silently, I pointed out the window.

“Oh, shite,” he said as he peered out. 

We were in the middle of a large lake. Several boats were drifting about, their colorful sails looked like an artist's palate against the water. Some were getting closer to investigate. Now there were almost a dozen of those muggle police cars ringing the lake, their blue lights flashing. One had used something like a Sonorus charm for I could hear him clearly. “Attention, those in the purple, uh, thing. Come out with your hands up.” 

I exchanged looks with Ernie. There was no way we were leaving the bus. Especially since crowds of muggles edged the banks, yelling out questions. “What is it? It’s a stunt. It’s a government conspiracy!. It’s a UFO! Are you aliens? Are you from Mars?”

“Wow!” Helena exclaimed. “Can we do that again tomorrow?”

“I don’t think the bus will be on route tomorrow,” Ernie commented and he surveyed the carnage we were in the middle of.

I shot him an incredulous look. “Ernie, I don’t think we’ll have a job tomorrow.” He nodded his head in agreement. Then we slithered down to the floor hoping the Department of Magical Catastrophes would show up soon along with a whole team of obliviators.


	4. A Day a NEWT in Charms Would Be Helpful

Ernie pulled the bus up to a group of waiting wizards and witches at Ottery St. Catchpole. I stood up to give my spiel. “Hello, welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike. How may I help you this today?” 

“George, stop that. No, I mean Fred!” A plumpish flame haired woman with ample hips and a motherly bosom was shaking her finger in the face of her son, Despite the fact that the teen towered over her, her laser eyes had pinned the boy to the spot. He, however, did not look terribly terrified. Instead he looked mildly amused. The woman continued to stare daggers at him. 

I looked at the pair and thought to myself, “I think she and my mum must have taken shrieking lessons together and come to think of it they both earned Newts.” I grinned at my joke, because I can be very funny. Then I returned to the conversation to see where it was headed. 

“I’m not Fred, I’m Gred!” The boy grinned, his freckles shining in the sunlight. 

“I don’t care who you are, GET IN THE BUS!” she hollered her face getting redder with each word until it was difficult to tell where her hair ended and her face began. She looked around and squinted her eyes to see better. “Where is the other one?”

“Mum,” a younger girl tugged on her mother’s arm and pointed to yet another red-headed boy who was examining the back wheel of the bus. He seemed to be reaching behind the tire, exploring the back with his fingers. 

“What are YOU doing!” His mother whipped around, her fury now completely directed at him. 

“Nothing, mom!” the second boy yanked his hand back and stood up quickly. “Just looking at the tires. They are missing their hubcaps.”

His mother snarled, obviously not believing him but choosing not to pursue it. She turned back to me and sweetened her voice like she had never been yelling, “I’m sorry, Hogsmeade, please.” She reached into her rather large bag and produced some change. “Six tickets, five are for children.”

I glanced around and realized that in all of the commotion, the number of redheads seemed to have multiplied. There were four boys, the one little girl and their harried mother. “3 sickles and 2 knuts.” I said, completing the exchange and dropping the coins in the till. The crowd barreled on board, the last two were the twins and they already had their heads together. It was obvious to a former troublemaker like myself that they were conspiring to create some kind of mischief..

They all settled into the back of the first level, spilling into three tables. No wait, I stopped. One. . two. . three. . four. . . five. . Where was the sixth redhead? The troublesome twins were there. Their little sister and it looked like a little brother were sitting together, so that left. 

“Where’s Percy?” the mother asked fanning herself with a copy of Witch Weekly. The other kids glanced about but said nothing. The mother just shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t seem worried, so I wasn’t worried and headed to the front. As I neared the front a monotone voice reverberated from beside the driver’s area.

“I don’t think your driving is conducive to proper wizarding expectations or safety regulations.” The nasally voice was lecturing poor Ernie while he tried to steer the bus through its daily route. “Furthermore the condition of some parts of this bus makes one question the maintenance schedule and procedures. . .”

“Are you from the Department of Magical Transportation or something?” I interrupted. I began to worry a bit. The bus had been acting just fine since its last, rather major, overhaul at Magical Maintenance, but the last thing I wanted was an unannounced inspection.

Ernie snorted. “He’s a damn teenager.” He swerved the bus sharply to the left to avoid a muggle taxi.

“A teenager who, like any citizen of this community, has the right to know the safety standards of this bus. I know for a fact that only a month ago, this bus or those operating it created a major breach of the International Statute of Secrecy by appearing to hundreds of muggles and flying over a major park in the London area, landing in a lake, so excuse me if I am inquiring into the current status of this vehicle while my family and I are aboard. It is abhorrent the lack of regulations that are placed upon this vehicle. Broom are highly regulated, as they should be. Allow speed and altitude are regulated by age and corresponding brooms for given age. Stability and reliability are strictly tested in numerous trials to ensure highest quality control. The Floo Network again highly regulated, having, like the brooms its own subdepartment with with Magical Transportation. There hasn’t been a major floo accident in over thirty years thanks to all the safety requirements. Even cauldrons laws have been passed to include a required thickness, acceptable materials, temperature standards to ensure the ability to handle the heat, but this bus. This bus is atrocious.”

“Cauldron thickness?” I stood there stymied, trying to make sense of his diatribe. “What does cauldron thickness have to do with the Knight Bus?”

The teen stared at me for a moment, pushing his glasses back up his freckled nose. “Well, nothing,” he admitted. “Except to emphasize the sorry lack of regulations on this bus and the results of such disregard. Why if you look at the accident log of the Knight Bus--Ouch!” A huge book came flying from the driver’s seat and bonked the kid on the head. 

“You want regulations!,” Ernie snarled. “Then read the damn book, yourself, all six hundred and fifty-four pages.”

The boy stared at him for a moment, rubbing his head. “You hit me with a book. You assaulted --”

“I tossed you the book that you so obviously wanted to read. It’s not my fault that you weren’t paying attention and excuse if my aim was off, but I’m trying to keep my eyes on the road.” I’ve never seen Ernie this heated. His eyes were blazing and his driving was decidedly more erratic than normal. The sides swayed back and forth so much that they nearly scraped the muggle sidewalk as they twisted and turned their way through London traffic. Ernie’s usually a fairly laid-back guy and he can handle a lot, but when you start criticizing his beloved bus, you’ve pushed him too far. Ernie continued his bellowing. “YOUR prattle is keeping me from focusing on the driving, so how is that for safety regulations!”

The redhead stared, mouth gaped open like a gasping fish floundering in the bottom of a rowboat. “Well, when you phrase it that way. . . “ He grabbed the book and headed toward the back to begin immersing himself in all six hundred, fifty-four pages.

“They are making them bureaucrats younger and younger,” Ernie mumbled as he pushed some dials, instantly making the bus became flexible so it could slither through a traffic jam. “No doubt that one will be a blue nosed Ministry worker in a few years, thumbing his finger at the likes of us”

I leaned against the wall, munched on some Chocoballs and watched the bus weave through muggles. The bus came with in a cat’s whisker of hitting several of them. However, as usual they went about their business blissfully unaware of the carrening vehicle. “What in Merlin’s beard was he rambling on about?” I asked. “I couldn’t understand half of what he said.”

Ernie grunted in agreement, “Which is why neither you nor I will ever work for the Ministry. We ain’t smart enough.”

“Speak for yourself,” I snorted. “I won’t ever work in the Ministry because I’m too smart for the likes of them. I wouldn’t be caught dead in an office job anyways.”

“Yeah,” Ernie’s face brightened at the idea of being too smart for a Ministry job. “Besides, do you really want to turn into that.” He motioned to Percy who was eagerly absorbing the Knight Bus Rules and Regulations handbook as if it was the Holy Word. 

I snorted again for emphasis and turned to check on the rest of the passengers, “not for a thousand galleons.”

______________________________________

I wandered back into the bus. There were the Gingers as I had smartly labeled them. The mom looked exhausted and the twins. . . . were missing. A sense of unease filled my stomach as I crept up the spiral staircase in search of Double Trouble. I found them, on the top most level. Their heads, once again, clustered together like they were actually conjoined twins rather than just identical. Their heads shot up at my footsteps and identical grins appeared on their faces as one of them motioned me over. I should have known better.

“Hey, I’m Gred,” he introduced himself. 

“Gred?” I asked as that was the weirdest name I had heard since Ignatius. I wanted to make sure I had heard the bloke correctly.

Gred nodded, “and this is Forge.” He pointed to his brother. “Do you want to see a muggle magic trick?”

“Muggles can’t do magic,” I immediately informed them. “Please tell me these kids aren’t that stupid,” I thought to myself.” They should have been in my year at Hogwarts. Then I wouldn’t have been in the dungeon of the class.”

“Oh, they can’t do magic like we do. Theirs is more of an illusion of magic.” Gred informed him reaching into a black bag and pulling out a deck of cards and various odds and ends. ”Here I’ll show you. Your name is Stan, right?”

I nodded still trying to figure out how muggles used magic. “Well, Stan, look at this card. I’m going to use the muggle version of Wingardium Leviosa to make it float.” Stan watched as Gred put the Eight of Dragons flat on his palm. He waved his hand over it and the card raised up about an inch from his palm.

I was, of course, unimpressed. “You used your wand,” I told the kid, but Gred shook his head and pulled out his wand. Then he handed to me or safekeeping and repeated the magic. 

This time, my jaw dropped. “Ugh, wandless magic.” 

Forge rolled his eyes. “Please we haven’t even taken our OWLS yet. Plus we’d get hit with an the Restriction of Underage Use of Magic. Nope, it’s muggle magic. The Ministry can’t trace muggle magic.”

“Wow!” my eyes began to shine in excitement at this new type of magic. I had always thought that muggles were, well okay people, but just rather dimwitted. The fact they could do magic was never mentioned in Muggle Studies. Who knew they could do such cool things? “Show me something else,” I demanded. 

“Okay,” Forge jumped in. “This one is a classic. It’s their version of the disillusionment charm.” 

“The what charm?” I scratched his head. I might have heard of it somewhere but honestly I always had better things to do than listen in Charms. It didn’t ring a bell.

Forge rolled his eyes, “The disillusionment charm? The charm, if done perfectly, makes you invisible or at least completely transparent.” Stan was still giving him an unsure look and the boy sighed. “You didn’t make it to NEWT level in charms, did you? Think about the bus. Why don’t muggles see it?”

“Because muggles don’t notice anything,” I said. 

Gred gave me a you are an idiot look. I hate that look. It was a favorite of several of my professors, particularly from Snape in Potions. “The muggles would notice a bright purple triple decker bus parked on the edge of the street. They aren’t that blind. They don’t notice it because of a variety of charms including a variation of the disillusionment charm.”

“Oh,” I replied thinking back to the mess at Regents Park when the bus broke down. “That makes sense.”

Forge nodded, “Anyways, here’s the disappearing galleon.”

I watched mesmerized as Forge had the coin in his hand, but then it was gone. It reappeared on my shoulder, but this disappeared again. To my amazement, he did it time and time again. “Are you sure you aren’t using a wand,” I double checked. 

“Positive,” Forge confirmed. “Muggle magic is different but just as interesting.”

The bus screeched to a stop and I jumped up to do my duties. All the way back down to the bottom, I considered a thought: did the Ministry of Magic realize that muggles could do magic?

_____________________________________

Five minutes later I was back on the top level, begging the boys to show me more muggle magic, but they just waved the idea away and pulled out some other things. They began to explain their dream of owning a joke shop and creating all sorts of merchandise. 

“Are you going to put Zonko’s out of business,” I teased them as my eyes skimmed the variety of objects coming from their pockets.

“We love Zonko’s!” Gred, or was it Forge, declared. “They are our inspiration.”

“But,” the other one said conspiratorially, “if they can’t keep up with Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. . . .”

The first one grinned. “Competition is healthy. It keeps you creative. Take this little guy here.” he opened a case. I craned my neck to get a better look. Inside were several compartments, each one seemed to hold a different type of sweet. Gred deftly picked up a pink and blue striped one and offered it to me. I claimed it gingerly and sniffed it, but there was no way I was going to be put it in my mouth.

Gred must have sensed by hesitancy. “It’s perfectly safe,” he assured me. “This one we’ve tested on ourselves several times.” He picks up one of the same striped candies and pops it into his mouth. Immediately his arms started to grow, no more like stretch until they reached almost a third of the way down the bus. Then he started waving his arms. They looked like waves of skin in the air. He linked them together and tied his arms into double knot and stepped through them like a jump rope. 

“That’s awesome!” I cheered and immediately popped mine into my mouth. Instantly my arms started to stretch into wet noodles. Gred and I spent several minutes, clapping and slapping high fives. Then Gred gave me a meaningful look and twisted his appendages around his brother. I followed suit and soon Forge look like a mummy wrapped in arms. 

We giggled a bit as Forge protested, “Hey guys, not cool!” He tried to struggle out but Gred flipped his hand out and clamped it over his twin’s resisting mouth.

“Ooopss, starting to shrink,” Gred said retracting his arms. I, too, felt them start to tingle a bit and unwrapped Forge as my arms began to return to normal size.

“That’s awesome!” I exclaimed. “Do you sell them?” I peered into the confectionary case my fingers hovering as I reached over them. 

“Soon,” Forge answered, “but we need a few more working ideas before we start marketing. Some of them don’t work,” he explained as he slapped my hand away from the case. “Like that one,” he pointed to the purple pill I had been reaching for.

“It doesn’t work?” I asked curiously I inspected the tiny morsel

“Nosebleed Nougats,” Gred said. “They work. The problem is they won’t stop. Last time I tested one on myself, my nose bled for an hour before the charm finally wore off.”

I snatched my hand back like the candy bit me. “What about that one?” I asked carefully pointing one that looked like a chocolate morsel from Honeydukes.

“That one gives you hiccups for about five minutes, but don’t eat another candy just yet. You need to make sure that first kind is out of your system. We haven’t tried combining them together and I’m not sure of the interaction.”

I nodded solemnly as I felt the bus jerk suddenly to a stop. “It looks like we’re at your stop, boys. Thanks for the joke. That was awesome!” I raced down the spiral stairs hollering, “HOGSMEADE!”

One of the twins raced after me and jumped out as soon as the door opened. He zipped around the back of the bus and I could hear him shouting back up at his brother. A minute later, his mother haranged her brood out the door. Percy gave the Knight Bus Rules and Regulations book back to Ernie. He looked rather put out like he had been told to return his favorite Christmas gift, but disembarked with the others. 

“Where’s George?” his mother shrilled before even counting heads. 

“Right here, mum.” The red head sauntered around from the back of the bus. “First one off the bus.”

His mother placed her hands on his wide hips, “and your brother?” not bothering to designate which one. 

“Behind you, mum.” Fred came down the stairs mimicking his brother with an all-to-innocent look on his face. As he passed by Stan, he leaned in and whispered. “If you want a good laugh at the end of your shift, point your wand to the back wheels and say tootilis.”

“Back wheels,” I asked trying to understand his riddle. 

“Yeah, you know, near your missing hubcaps and don’t forget the charm tootilis. Believe me, it’s hilarious.” Fred grinned me me as he nudged me with his elbow and jumped over the steps to the sidewalk below. With a cheery wave, he ran to catch up with his family.”

“Tootilis,” I said to myself trying to imagine what they had concocted, but my imagination was interrupted by a incoming passenger who was struggling with a huge bird. From its puffed up feathery head to its J-hook tail feathers, the animal was easily two-thirds the size of an adult. Its body consisted of a wide head that tapered to the aforementioned tail with the result of lacking any neck whatsoever and no evidence of legs although two crows feet stuck out at the bottom of the furry avian. It’s plumage was mostly a deep pink with yellow and green emphasize on its crown and tail. Beady black eyes stared at you as if daring you to comment and it’s beak turned down into what was probably a perpetual frown. All in all it appeared to be a rather beautiful but grumpy bird. 

The owner, himself, was as non-descript as his familiar was exotic, save perhaps for his vicious tongue which was currently directed at me.

“Do you have fwooper feathers in your ears, boy? I asked you a question. How much to Oxford?” he snapped, his flabby lips spitting as he attempted to board while balancing the huge bird. 

A bit of slobber woke me up from my inspection of the feathery aviary and I grabbed the bird’s perch to allow the man to board with more ease. “1 sickle, sir.” The man dropped the silver coin in my hand and snatched his bird back, the entire time mumbling about the whippersnappers of the younger generation.

I shrugged my shoulders, once again reminding myself of the rules required for the job, mainly politeness overrides rudeness. I helped two more wizards board and then then did patrols starting at the top deck and working down, keeping an eagle eye for anything admiss. I had only looked under four chairs when I spotted small suitcase under the fifth. Hesitantly (for one never knows what one will find on a magical bus) I lifted it up and snapped open the latches. Opening with caution, I peered in and a grin broke over my face. It belonged to those redheads. What was their names? Gred and Forge. Snapping the case closed, I pushed it deep into my pocket. What was the last name of those twins? Perhaps Ernie knew the family.

I continued my inspection with little fanfare until I came upon the cross-looking bird with the even crosser owner. We, conductors, are known for the famous Knight Bus hospitality, so I tried again with my most affable grin. “Does your bird always look so cross?” I asked as I inspected the bird who was now staring back at me with an almost sneer on its face. The bird looked like he’d fit in better at the office of the Slytherin Head of House instead of the Knight Bus.

The man removed his headphones and sighed. “Yes. He’s a fwooper. He’s always cranky when he has a silencing charm on him.”

“How often does he have a silencing charm on him?” I asked ignoring the man’s annoyance.

The man stared at the me like I was stupid. (Have I mentioned that I hate that look?) “I said he’s a fwooper, which means he has the charm on all the time!.”

“Is his singing that bad?”

“What! No!” the man sputtered. “For the one minute, I’ve heard him sing, it was nice, a little high but a pleasant twitter. Then I replaced the silencing charm.”

He moved to put his headphones back on his head when I objected. “That’s, that’s horrible! You can’t just not let a bird sing.” I tried to reach out and stroke the bird’s plumage, to let him know I sympathized with his plight. He awarded me with a jam from his sharp beak.

The wizard, once again, placed the headphones in his lap. “Did you take Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Kettleburn?” I nodded in affirmation. “Then,” the man said very slowly and loudly. “I’ll repeat myself again. He’s a fwooper which means he isn’t allowed to sing. Period. Goodbye.” The man placed his headphones back on his ears, turn his music up and his body away from Stan and the bird. 

“Poor fwooper,” I whispered. “That’s so unfair to you.” The bird seemed to agree although its expression never changed. If it did, it was to drop from severely annoyed to uther loathing. “People can be so cruel to their familiars,” I though ”but I can help.” The man was wrapped up in his music and didn’t notice as I raised my wand and discretely released the silencing charm. Immediately the bird began a beautiful trill. Its expression seemed to brighten by several degrees and sense of self-satisfaction came over me. I was sure that the fwooper’s song was just for me. I bowed to the bird as if to say, “you are welcome” and finished my bus inspection.

Days later, as I recounted the events of this particular day over a pint of mead with a dear friend of mine. After he laughed so hard the mead squirted through his nose, he pointed out that maybe I should have thought back a bit about Kettleburn’s class. Maybe I would have remembered the professor mentioning the birds. In fact my friend pointed out, the professor actually brought one in for us to see although that one’s feathers were predominating yellow with only a bit of blue and pink on the tail. After I cleaned the mead off my shirt, I faintly recalled this and tried to make excuses for not making the connection or perhaps, I justified, it was my sense of injustice that overrode common sense, but either way, I never asked the most important question. Why would these bird have a silencing charm on them all the time?

The fwooper bird, native to Africa, is actually a class XXX magical creature. As I was to discover it is a well-known fact that long-term listening to its sweet song will render a wizard or witch insane. Thus, all fwoopers come with a silencing charm. No one has ever bothered to ask the bird how he or she feels about this. What is not as readily known is that even short term exposure can impact the cognitive functions. Less than thirty minutes can create goofiness and reckless behavior similar to an overdose of felix felicis. 

Thus at the midday on that fateful day, seven beings were aboard the Knight Bus: one driver, one conductor, three passengers reading books or watching the scenery, one wearing headphones and next to him, one rare African bird that was twittering away as fast as it could. Most of the passengers and I were blissfully unaware of what was happening to us.

________________________________________

A few minutes after releasing the bird from his silent bondage, I had the overwhelming desire to whistle a merry tune which followed quickly by dancing a jig up and down the steps. The passengers didn’t seem to mind. In fact, one was tapping his foot to my little ditty and another nodding his head. A light, pleasant feeling consumed me and I had just decided that the day was about perfect. Even the perpetual scowl of the bird’s owner wouldn’t ruin this day.

As I danced along (my movements becoming more and more erratic), I decided that the tune needed a beat, so I used my wand as a drumstick. There are wonderful sounds to be made in the Knight Bus. Every seat, chair, wall seemed to make a different pitch and soon I was picking out tunes. Mr. Grumpy Fat Lips shot me a look disgust but since his headphones shielded him from my new composition, he closed his eyes to the outside world. Fine by me, I decided as I worked out a tricky measure.

“You know,” a voice broke me from my songwriting. “Drummers need two drumsticks. Here take mine.” I thanked the foot tapping wizard profusely as he handed me his wand and continued with the melody. Within minutes all of the passengers, save Mr Grumpy Fat Lips, were clustered around me making suggests and whistling ideas to enrich our composition. 

One of the witches had a musical background and began to make suggests. Her hat would rival the fwooper for pink feathers, as some of them stood two feet off the top of the hat. The feathers bobbed and swayed to the music creating a psychedelic picture of pink bandletoor bugs in the air. “Madam, I adore your hat,” I declared sweeping my own off in a grand bow. “I don’t recall ever seeing anything so beautiful in my days,” 

Although she had to be pushing eighty, she giggled like a schoolgirl and twirled around. “Do you like it?” she asked. “I would consider trading hats with you but I need something in return.”

All of the sudden, a need overwhelmed me, a desire. I had to acquire that hat and wear it. The pink plumage would look perfect with the brass buttons of my uniform-so debonair, so regal. I plucked my own hat off and offered it. “And what else do you require for payment, milady?” 

The witch giggled again and looked around. “You know, I’m hungry,” she declared. “Do you have any food?”

Suddenly the music stopped, the drumsticks became wands and newly formed band turned to me. “Yes,” said one member. “I’m hungry, too. What do you have to eat?”

I froze for a moment. Food? We don’t typically serve food on the Knight Bus, except for tea, but one glance told me that the favored beverage wouldn’t satisfy this ravenous group. Then an idea came to me. An epic idea. An idea as good as Newton or Einstein. I reached deep into my pocket and pulled out the twin’s case. The little case full of little confectionaries with big surprises. What the perfect way to feed and entertain them.

And that is when the real trouble began.

I opened the case to oohhsss and ahhhs as they clustered around. “May I have one?” the witch asked her hand hovering over the container. 

“On two conditions,” I replied. “First we trade hats.” She immediately threw her feathery headpiece at me snatching my conductors hat to replace it. “And. . . . . “ I held out for dramatics. “You tell me your name.”

“Oh,” she smiled. “I’m Agnes.”

“My name is Harold.” The tap-footing mad bobbed his balding, black hair.

“And I am Bartleby,” a man with gray-green eyes and patchwork robes added.

“Pleasure, my friends. A real pleasure,” I said taking time to shake each of their hand vigorously except for Agnes. I kissed the back of her hand in a gentlemanly fashion causing the school-girl giggle to surface again. “Now my friends, please enjoy. Try any and all, except that one,” I grabbed Bartleby’s hand as he reached for one of the purple nosebleed ones. “Bad side-effects,” I whispered and the man nodded in reverence, his eyes wide in belief.

Harold was the first. His hair began to grow and grow and grow. By the time it stopped, his was half way down his back. “My bald spot. It’s gone!” he yelled with glee. “I have hair again!’

“I’ll braid it for you,” Agnes offered shyly. 

“Oh yes, please do,” he answered and plopped down so she could begin.

Harold gobbled down one and then grabbed an iridescent green one that looked more like an alien’s snot than food. Almost immediately, he sprouted antenna. “Quack!” he said as he pulled off his socks and shoes. Yes, his feet were webbed like a duck. He quacked again as he waddled around the bus to our delight. 

Agnes was changing colors so fast I it looked like a rainbow was putting on a show for us. Bartleby’s second one caused steam to pour from his ears as well as train sounds. I laughed hysterically at all three of them as I dropped into a chair and popped my own polka dotted candy into my mouth. Mr. Grumpy seemed to have fallen asleep so the fwooper flew over to us, continuing to serenade us with his lovely music.

I was wrapped in a feeling of warmth and giddiness like nothing could go wrong. I snuggled into the feeling like a blanket, watching my new friends as they shifted into colors and shapes, colors and ideas. It’s like a really nice dream, I thought, as I drifted away.

Sometime later, loud noises roused me along with pain in my shoulder. 

“Would you wake up, Stan? What, in Merlin’s pants, happened here!” I force my eyes open to see three very annoyed people staring at me. Ernie was kicking me in the shoulder and yelling far too loud for my sensitive ears. Mr. Grumpy pursed his fat lips at me and the silent fwooper, once again, was tryout out for world’s cantankerous bird award.

Wait a moment, a silent fwooper. “You silenced him again!” I croaked trying to look authoritative as I staggered to my feet. “You need to free the bird! Free him, I tell you. You have no right to put that bird in musical bondage!’ I thought my speech sounded rather persuasive but evidently not enough.

The man’s slanted eyes popped open wide for a moment. “Do you mean, you purposely undid the silencing charm on the fwooper.” His face turned into an almost cruel, or at least satisfied, smile. “Well, as the muggles say, you reap what you sow.” With that he turned toward the door. The fwooper gave me one knowing look as they exited the bus.

“Stan,” Ernie sighed. “What’s going on?” I looked at my friend. He looked almost disappointed in me. Then I glanced around. Harold was vomiting in a chair, trying to keep his newly long hair out of the way. Agnes was passed out with a green pig’s nose and Bartleby was sitting in the corner, furiously scratching every part of his body, pausing only to hiccup every few seconds.

“Your shift is over anyways and Dan is here. Go home and try to sleep it off, okay,” he placed a concerned hand on my shoulder. As he patted it, I noticed that feathers were flaking off. Dumbly, I nodded and shuffled toward the door. 

Just then, Dan bounded aboard. “Blimey, Stan. What happened to you?” His jaw dropped to the floor as he took into my appearance. Curiously, I glanced in a thin wall mirror near the stairs. I was still wearing Agnes’s pink feathered hat, but those pink feathers seemed to be everywhere, on my shoulders, my arms, legs, stomach, feet. Everytime I took a step, I left a few behind. And then there was my nose. It had grown long and pointed and curved downwards, almost like a beak.

“You look like a. . . like a. . . .” Dan stuttered still taking in my appearance.

“Like a fwooper bird,” I supplied. The high was now definitely disappearing being replaced by a monstrous headache.”

“Well,” Dan scratched his head. “Yeah, that’s it, exactly. A fwooper bird. I remember learning about those in Kettleburn’s class.”

I just nodded dumbly, willing my headache to dissipate but no such luck. I trudged down the steps and turned toward home. As I neared the back of the bus, those missing hubcaps seemed to taunt me and laugh at my appearance. They reminded me of something, something one of those Gingers said. I pointed my wand at the back wheels “tootilis.” 

Nothing happened, the bus just stood there. Disappointed I dropped my shoulders until the bus started up. Tiny bubbles starting to form from the back. By the time, Ernie had the bus warmed up, distinct noises and bubbles were pouring out of the bus.

And that was the end of a rather eventful day. Me, the pink fwooper, shedding feathers and watching the Knight Bus fart green and yellow bubbles as it pulled off to finish the route.


End file.
